


Good Dog

by RedsAdmin



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Dark, M/M, Violence, sex mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-03-27 09:55:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13878471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedsAdmin/pseuds/RedsAdmin
Summary: Probably will be a collections of stories consisting of Gregory and Christophe based roughly around the same universe. It all depends on what ideas strike me, but I noticed a lack of stories on this ship and decided to contribute while I can.I tend to view Gregory as a darker character under the surface, so you've been warned on that.Based when they're adults, Christophe works as a mercenary under the employment of Gregory.





	1. The Dog Returns Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairings: Gregory x Christophe
> 
> Warnings: Mention of sex, dark themes, Gregory isn’t a nice guy.
> 
> AU: They’re adults. I only do cute and innocent fluff with kids. Not sorry.
> 
> I was going to trash this because I realized I was rambling halfway through, but I’m a lazy dick. I will try to make more chapters of this but my life has been pretty hectic lately. Also, there needs to be more of this pair before I die of thirst.

It was relatively warm compared to where Christophe had been yesterday, though still he detested the cold. Winter was a harsh month, the ground was blanketed in snow and the dirt was frozen and hard. The chill crept through the threadbare green jacket he wore, making him cold to the both. However, he ignored it as he leaned against the elegant lamp post that told of wealth of the surrounding area. Figures though, seeing how he was surrounded by cars that were worth more than he cared to even think of, a useless waste of money in his opinion. He lighted his hand, clad in finger-less gloves, to pull the cigarette from his chapped lips so he could exhale smoke and body heat into the winter air. He’d been gone for three weeks now on a mission in Russia and had just arrive back into the pompous city of North Park, its rich inhabitants flaunting their wealth. It made Christophe stick out like a sore thumb with his olive skin smudged with dirt and his brunette hair unkempt.

Usually he tried to blend in, to use his homeless appearance to make people look over him or avoid him, but out here, he felt too noticeable. It was making him anxious, it didn’t help that he hadn’t slept in a few days, even then he tended to get very little sleep due to his paranoia and addiction to cigarettes. So why was he standing outside a private school? Because the only man he trusted would be out any minute. Gregory went to this high school after transferring from that hick town of South Park. He was thankful for it, Christophe never wanted to see that place again. His mother still lived there, but he long ditched school and left home, living in abandoned homes and other buildings. Though with his line of work, he could afford an apartment, but he didn’t like settling, didn’t like commitment. Which was the greatest problem of all when it came to him and Gregory.

The bell rang, dismissing the students within and within moments, the door opened and people spilled out. Some going to their own cars their parents had bought for them, the rest either getting on a bus, carpooling, or riding on a bike. Christophe took a long drag of his cigarette and waited, a few kids gave him a wary glance, but he warned them away with the cold green stare, the bags under his eyes making him seem like he wouldn’t be able to tolerate their complaints. He knew Gregory would find him, the young Brit was more observant than people gave him credit for. Then again he was the greatest actor of them all. All charm and smiles, of pretty words and golden hair, he could fool even the most wary of people. Except Christophe. The Frenchman had been with Gregory long enough to have seen what Gregory truly was like beneath the finely tailored clothes.

They were in the family business after all. Gregory was from a wealthy family, the elite with old money and owning several companies that Christophe didn’t bother to recall. Probably selling hair care products with how Gregory’s hair always seemed to shine in the sunlight. He tapped the ash off his cigarette, keeping his eyes wandering around the parking lot. Christophe was a bit of a different case. His mother had formerly been a nun in France, she had rescued and healed a French mercenary. One thing lead to another and Christophe was conceived, which was a huge issue in various ways. For one, his mother had broken her vows and in her desperation to hide her infidelity from the Church, she tried to kill Christophe while he was still in the womb. God had other ideas and decided to punish her by making Christophe survive no matter what.

The other part was, the French mercenary was employed by Gregory’s family and had been sent to Africa to try to quell the rebellion in the blood diamond business.Christophe had eventually heard that he’d died there, leaving his mother a single parent, cast out from the church. Being paid for ‘funeral’ expenses by Gregory’s family, she used that money to move to America to hide her shame. In Colorado, Christophe was born, taking on his father’s last name at Gregory’s family’s insistence. For the longest time, Christophe’s mother had pretended to care, preached about God and the Bible. When Christophe was five, she began to drink heavily, reminded of all she’d lost because of Christophe. In these times, her tongue was lose, spilling the truth she’d hidden away under some false image of trying to be the perfect mother so not to incur God’s wrath any further.

Christophe didn’t turn his head, while he was lost in his thoughts, he was always aware of his surroundings, even more aware of the blond haired male heading in his direction with purpose. No girl on his arm this time, then again Gregory couldn’t seem to hold his interest on any one girl for too long. He refused to acknowledge the relief of Gregory being single once more, he already knew it wouldn’t work out. He and Gregory, there were too many things that went wrong with them. He didn’t want to share Gregory and yet he didn’t want to settle with Gregory either, thinking with your heart was worse than thinking with your dick. He flicked his burnt up cigarette onto the concrete, grinding it out with the toe of his boot as Gregory neared.

“I didn’t expect to see you here. You’re early.” Gregory spoke with a hint of amusement in his tone, his blue eyes bright and deceptively chipper. Christophe curled his lip at him, baring his teeth a little in distaste. Gregory was already toying with him first thing, taunting him with this cheerful and elegant display put on for the world around him, to deceive everyone he came across. He still recalled the first time he’d met Gregory, he’d been four at the time when Gregory and his elder sister came over to America briefly for a visit, to check in on Christophe. Even then Gregory had been just as sadistic, but Christophe preferred this. He’d been sick of his mother and other people faking their kindness. Gregory had shown him his honest self when he nearly choked Christophe by pulling a dog collar too tight around his neck and claimed that Christophe was the family’s newest attack dog. From then on, every summer, Gregory would come to visit for a month. Eventually Christophe became acquainted to the abuse.

“I got the job done, that’s all that matters, limey prick.” He growled out, his voice low and rough from years of smoking. He was eighteen now, he’d lost most of his accent from years of training to disguise it. It only really came out when he was stressed, when he lost the ability to speak English all together, he was truly lost. That only happened when he went on missions with Gregory, it wasn’t often he did, but Gregory had often ended up saving his life several times. He’d been the only one in his life who actually seemed to give a shit whether he lived or died, though likely only because Christophe was reluctantly loyal to the Brit. The first time it happened was when they managed to get out of a hairy situation by the skin of their teeth, adrenaline was high and they were amazed to be alive. So, it wasn’t a surprise when Christophe had lost his virginity to the blond that night.

It occurred a few more times, though only whenever they’d finished a mission and were high on the rush of killing. Though a couple of times Gregory had refused, insisting he’d remain loyal to whatever girlfriend he had at the time, leaving Christophe sour and further hammering home what he meant to Gregory. He was born into a long line of dogs. And he fucking hated dogs in a result of it.

Gregory laughed pleasantly, always the actor, always had to be perfect. He settled a hand on the Frenchman’s shoulder, the only time Gregory touched him was when he was clean or if Gregory had his gloves on. The man hated whenever Christophe was dirty, which was more often than not.“Right you are, little frog. Well, its a bit nippy out, so lets head for the car.” If Gregory though this was 'nippy’, he would’ve hated Russia. Which was why he left all the hard labor and work he was too good for to Christophe. There was no dirt under Gregory’s nails, but there was always blood on his gloves. People, however, saw what they wanted to see. Perfect smile, golden curls, a fluent and elegant accent that spoke upper crust in British society. Christophe hated it, which was why he enjoyed ruining it.

Gregory took the lead as usual, Christophe following doggedly behind towards the expensive looking car. Christophe didn’t know much about cars aside from hot wiring them or maybe putting an explosive in one. So he didn’t know what kind of car Gregory drove aside that it looked expensive. Not surprising, Gregory loved to flaunt his money and status. It was a very clever ruse, who would think some air-headed rich kid would ever get their hands dirty in the professional mercenary business. As per custom, Christophe paused at the trunk, watching it open up from the button on the keyring remote Gregory had. A few times when Christophe had been especially dirty Gregory had forced him to ride in the trunk, for now the Frenchman took of his boots and tossed them into the trunk, pulling out a seat cover for the passenger side. It was annoying but not as annoying as Gregory’s bitching about Christophe getting his seats dirty. Claiming he even saw a flea jump off Christophe once. The Brit was just being a nancy.

Christophe side into the passenger seat after putting the cover on, sighing out as he lowered the back of the seat so he could rest finally. Draping an arm over his shoulder, he blocked out the light and Gregory settled into the driver’s side. The engine didn’t start, meaning Gregory probably wanted to bitch or complain about something. Whatever, it was all white noise to Christophe now and he wondered if Gregory would be able to tell if Christophe fell asleep on him or not.

“I know you just returned from your mission, but I’m putting you on another one.” No surprise there, Christophe would be sent out time and time again, gone for months or even years, that was just the way his life worked. “This one doesn’t require violence, instead you’ll be posing as my fiance.”

If Gregory was trying to get a response out of him, it didn’t work. Christophe was a great actor when he needed to be. And acting would be required since there was no actual love in the traditional sense between them. Christophe felt he was incapable of such an emotion, love made people do stupid things, made them weak. “Oh, won’t that be a fuckin’ blast. I didn’t know you were into dogs, prat.” He ground out in a slight annoyance, making his accent deepen just slightly. He bet the bastard looked smug about the idea of parading Christophe around like some poodle on a leash. Which brought Christophe to realize why he needed to play fiance in the first place. “What do you need me to do exactly?”

“I’m pleased you ask, frog.” Yeah, he definitely sounded smug, which didn’t bode well for Christophe.“I’m going to a grand charity event back home, a variety of powerful people will be there, so I need to gather intel on a certain few. Another pair of eyes would help but you’re not known around the social high class. So you’ll have to be my plus one.”

Parties. high class. That meant a lot of things that Christophe hated.

“Fuck you, you blond shit.” Christophe snapped. “I’m not dressing up like a prissy lap dog. I hate parties. I hate rich people. And I fuckin’ hate getting clean!”

Instantly a firm hand caught his jaw in a bruising grip, conflicting with the feel of soft calfskin gloves. “You act like you have a choice in the matter, Christophe.” The voice purred out, sickeningly sweet and beguiling. It was the tone Gregory took when he was on the verge of sating that sadistic side of his. How long had it been? A couple of weeks since Gregory had hurt someone? The longer Christophe was away, the more violent Gregory became, building up until Christophe returned to bear the brunt of it. And honestly? By not Christophe found himself aroused by the idea, his mind and body almost craved the punishment.

“Now be a good little mongrel and do as you’re told.”


	2. Chapter 2

The car ride was otherwise uneventful once Christophe conceded to Gregory’s demands, not wanting to get into a fight first thing back with no sleep. The sound of classical music was relaxing, but Christophe could only relax so much when he was in a moving vehicle. He would never admit it, but traveling also made him feel ill with anxiety. He couldn’t control his fate and he hated relying on a machine to get him from point A to point B. However, there was no way around it as he would like to arrive at his designation on time rather than procrastinating just because he felt a little sick. So the Frenchman suck it up and let Gregory take the wheel, not that he had much of a choice when it came to the Brit. Thankfully, Gregory had put on soothing music instead of something that might rack his nerves any further, only because the blond preferred classical over anything modern.

Gregory lived in a high class apartment for various reasons, he could flaunt his family money by owning some extravagant house but no. Yard work wasn’t Gregory’s thing, nor was maintaining a property and he would rather not deal with staff that could possibly be incompetent or get in his way. An apartment was close to all the local shops and hang outs, he could leave any time and wasn’t anchored down to one place. Christophe shared that sentiment at least. While on the exterior one would think the two were so vastly different, but in truth they were more alike than one would first assume. The only difference was, Christophe didn’t hide his true nature like Gregory did.

Now Christophe stood behind Gregory as the man slid his keycard into the slot and opened the door to let them inside. A blur of motion caught in Christophe’s peripheral’s, making him reach to his back and grab the grip of his pistol tucked away in the back of his pants. Good thing Gregory’s body was still in the way of the door as he laughed pleasantly and wrapped his arms around the figure. A woman. The long black hair was glossy and well taken care of, apparently this was Gregory’s current girlfriend, which was frustrating. Christophe had hoped to get a bit of stress relief in after such a harsh mission but so much for that idea. He didn’t even hear the greetings and back and forth between the two as he shouldered past so he could get in the apartment. He hated standing in open public places and didn’t want to be left in the hall with no cover just so Gregory could play pretend with his latest girl.

Jealous? A little, it was more of frustration and disappointment but that was just something the Frenchman was used to from an early age. The girl let out a surprised sound and pulled away from Gregory. This was a girl Christophe hadn’t seen before, so she probably thought he was a stranger barging in so rudely. Really, Christophe just wanted to get through his forced routine and pass out on the couch. He knew Gregory would force him to shower and change into some clean clothes before he was allowed to relax in the apartment.Before he could ditch the two though, Gregory grabbed his arm, just firm enough for a warning, causing Christophe’s lip to curl in a silent snarl of distaste.

“Porsche, dear, I’d like you to meet my friend, Christophe. He just returned from a business trip and I invited him over to spend the night.” Once introduced, Porsche relaxed and held out hand in offering for a shake. However, Christophe looked down at it then back up to her pretty face, the glare must have been obvious enough. Her award winning smile faltered a little and her hand dropped. Smoothly, Gregory recovered as usual, used to Christophe less than stellar attitude. “He’s just tired, love, I’ll let him take care of his needs and we can start dinner, shall we?” The woman nodded as Gregory placed a hand on her back to guide her to the kitchen, leaving Christophe on his own. He was grateful as he didn’t want to entertain anyone, he didn’t trust this stranger but there was nothing he could do about it. So he crouched down to remove his muddy boots so he wouldn’t track mud throughout the apartment. The last time he’d done that he ended up having to scrub the floor with a toothbrush.

Why did he put up with such abuse? It was all he really knew and not only that, but Gregory was really the only one he could trust. There was no way he could live a solitary life and really, he kind of liked having Gregory in control sometimes. It made his paranoid mind ease a bit from the stability Gregory provided, there was always order with the Brit.Once he pried his dirtied boots off, he carried them into the small coat closet to set the on the bit of plastic that was always there just for him. It seemed Gregory always accommodated for Christophe’s presence more than he did with his girlfriends. It was a reassuring thought, but it didn’t ease Christophe’s anger any as he could hear Porsche and Gregory laughing in the kitchen. To the outside viewer, they were a charming couple, perfection, not a speck of dirt to ruin their relationship. Except Christophe, the Frenchman was so opposite to what Gregory enjoyed that it was almost amusing to think that Christophe was the only one the Brit really trusted.

Not able to stomach the light and normal conversation going on in the kitchen, Christophe made his way into the master bedroom so he could use the on suite bathroom. He peeled out his crusty and filthy clothes, tossing them into the dark green hamper meant just for him. Gregory didn’t even like his dirty clothes to mix with the Frenchmen’s. Christophe couldn’t blame him, this would be the first shower he had in over a week. Ever since he ditched his mother, he had no one to tell him what to do, so basic needs deteriorated. He just didn’t like being completely vulnerable in the shower, knot even the hunting knife he placed on the shower rack could comfort him. For a long time, he just stood in the walk in shower, it was like a personal sauna with the steam rising and covering the glass door. He could recall all the time Gregory joined him in her. It reminded him that he was alive and wanted. Now he was left on his own, shoved aside for some girl.

Dark forest green eyes stared at one of the cracks in the stone tile, how many times had he punched that spot in frustration? He wanted to do it again but after breaking his knuckles for the third time, he’d learned his lesson. Once the water was no longer clouded with dirt from his body, Christophe went to work in scrubbing his hair to get any excess dirt out that he could. He needed another hair cut, Gregory always did it for him since Christophe didn’t trust anyone else with a sharp pair of scissors around him. Though, right now he seemed preoccupied with Porsche so he’d have to ask later. At the moment, Christophe focused on trying to ignore the high priced shampoo that Gregory had and the fact that there was more feminine hair and body care products in the shower. It was like this girl had already moved in, causing annoyance to prickle over his skin. Though, what did his opinion matter, he was just a poorly trained dog after all, barely above being a stray.

It didn’t take long for him to finish scrubbing his body until his skin was an angry red color, barely seen over his olive skin. He exited the shower to dry himself off with a dark green towel, everything that was designated for him was dark green and he was rarely allowed to use anything that wasn’t assigned to him. Gregory said he liked the color because it matched Christophe’s eyes, probably the most innocent compliment the man had ever given him. It stuck with the Frenchmen despite how much it annoyed him, made him feel like he was softening over a few stupid words that had been given so casually and likely meant nothing further than face value. As he was brushing his teeth, he heard the door open, glancing over sharply in the mirror to see Gregory. He must’ve managed to slip away but likely only for a moment or two. Christophe swore around his toothpaste at the way his heart picked up a little, betraying him and his sensibilities.

“I just wanted to check in on you to make sure you’re getting cleaned up.” The perfectly tilted voice broke the silence. Christophe spat out the toothpaste and cupped the water from the faucet to clean out his mouth, purposefully ignoring Gregory. “I don’t need to remind you to be on your best behavior around Porsche, do I?” Gregory tested and Christophe shot an angry glare at him, appearing darker from beneath his thick brows and the dark circles beneath his eyes from lack of sleep.

“She can go fuck herself.” He growled out before drying his face with a hand towel, gaining a glower from his handler. “I’m not being paid to be nice, unless you want to give me a reward for being good.” Christophe hinted with irritation, already knowing the answer.

“I will not cheat on her if that’s what you’re implying, you know the rules, dog.” Gregory sounded pleasant, but Christophe could hear the edge in his tone, a warning. However, Christophe didn’t heed it.

“Then we’re done here.” Christophe shoved past Gregory so he could enter the bedroom and the dresser. The bottom drawer to the right was where all his spare clean clothes were kept. He knew Gregory wouldn’t do anything to him, not while there was a chance Porsche might interrupt, so Christophe was going to take full advantage of Gregory being the one who was leashed for once. “Go play pretend house with Barbie and leave me be, connard.” When he straightened to pull his boxers on, he could feel Gregory behind him, those arms caging him as Gregory’s hands planted firmly on the top of the dresser. Christopher’s body tensed with anticipation, he could feel the Brit’s warmth against his bare back, still slightly damp from his shower. Closing his eyes, he could imagine Gregory leaning in to drag his tongue over his cleaned skin. To feel those hips pin him against the edge of the dresser so Gregory’s bare hands could roam and trace over the brutal scars that ruined his olive skin.

He craved it badly, but the touch never came. Leaving Christophe wanting, trembling with anger.

Gregory leaned in to whisper, his warm breath scenting of fresh mint brushing over the rim of his ear. “Watch you language, dog. I have a great memory and I will punish you in due time.” He murmured softly, his voice low and deep, tempting Christophe to his very core. The Frenchman ground his teeth, his jaw clenched to the point he feared he’d crack a tooth. His anger was only fueled by the disappointment of feeling Gregory release him, pulling away to make his was out of the bedroom once more. Christophe slammed his fist into the top of the dresser, frustrated with himself for letting himself fall to such a bait, to let Gregory get under his skin like that.

One day, Gregory was going to regret torturing him like this when the dog decided to bite the hand that feeds him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None

“Stop messing with my god damn tie.” Christophe growled for the fourth time this evening. They hadn’t even made it to the party and Gregory was already fussing over his attire like some sort of mother hen. Some might find his concern amusing, the Frenchman just found it bothersome. It was bad enough he had to dress up in a suit and tie, not to mention dealing with Gregory cutting his shaggy hair. Christophe was adamant about not letting people near when they had sharp objects around, resulting in Gregory having to learn how to style hair or else Christophe would simply cut it haphazardly with the nearest sharp object.

“Well, maybe if you tied it right in the first place, I wouldn’t have to.” Was the return quip, making Christophe even further aggravated. He had tried to convince Gregory could go by himself or at least with his current girlfriend, but the man was adamant. Christophe understood why, involving an innocent was always a bad idea and it was always handy to keep Christophe around to do any dirty work. Didn’t mean Christophe had to like it any. Oh, he’d be able to kill someone just fine but there were worse things than getting his hands a little bloody.

Such as the grand estate that rests in front of him, lights shining through windows as if the place was a god damn miracle sent from heaven. He could here the crowd inside, not quite loud but more refined. As expected. He’d been to upper crust parties before, with or without Gregory as sometimes his job lead him to blend in to any situation. It wouldn’t be so difficult if Gregory didn’t hover around him so much, already he was craving a cigarette and the party hadn’t even started yet. Luckily, the man at the door distracted Gregory away from the Frenchman, giving their names so the man could check the list. Of course, Christophe already had a fake name, being so low born meant he could go wherever he wished, be whoever he wished. Gregory on the other hand had no such luxury. Such a popular face had its perks, but also its downfalls.

For now, Christophe had to play a up and coming model from France, one Gregory had scouted out and decided to support. From there, their relationship grew in secret until Gregory decided to take Christophe as his fiance. It took a great amount of effort to not yank his hand away from Gregory’s when the other man grabbed for it, he hated the way Gregory so easily played the sickly sweet partner. If anyone really knew what he was like, the man wouldn’t have so many girlfriends over the years. If anything, the Brit was a grade A actor, so convincing that even the keenest of eyes could be fooled.

As they were granted access into the mansion, Christophe was greeted with the same boring affair. Men dressed to the nines, women all dolled up and glittering like diamonds, drawing the eyes of nearly every man in the room. It was basically a chance to show of a person’s wealth, any excuse to boast about how well off they were. With the work Christophe did, he could be in such a group but this scene wasn’t his. He cared little about spending big and most of his money he either put away in a savings or Gregory took. He traveled far too often to bother owning a house and Gregory always insisted he stay over at his place. Mostly just to make sure his prized guard dog was groomed properly.

“I’m going to go mingle for a while, so don’t cause any trouble.” Gregory broke Christophe’s train of thought with a obvious display of affection by pressing a polite kiss on his cheek before going to seek out the host of the party. It would be customary for Gregory to bring Christophe along, but it seemed the Brit wanted Christophe to be as forgettable as possible. Not wanting to stand there looking lost, the Frenchman made his way over to the table lined with finger food. None of it looked really appetizing and the portions were too small. He figured one serving would be as much as a month’s worth of food for him. However, he couldn’t not eat, it would give him something to do and might as well eat while the food was free.

He picked up what appeared to be the world’s tiniest sandwich, masking his look of disapproval as he turned to catch a waiter who was serving what he expected to be flutes of some expensive champagne. He’d definitely need alcohol in his system if he was going to be dealing with pompous pricks all night. Even if it was some fancy poodle drinks. Delicately, he plucked one from the tray and began to idly weave his way through the crowd, looking like he moving directly towards something so he could avoid interruption and conversation. Gregory hadn’t been kind enough to let him in on why exactly they were here, just that Christophe was meant to be the muscle if things went south. Gathering intel in places such as this wasn’t exactly Christophe’s specialty.

Hours passed, Christophe had to stop a few times to converse with random party goers so he didn’t get caught sticking out of the crowd. It was always a challenge to curb his way of speaking. His accent was less course and more fluid, his low voice just having the slightest scratch that could be deemed smokey. It was pleasing to the ladies as they seemed to slowly gather around him, chatting away about topics Christophe had to pretend to enjoy. At least talking to the ladies was more entertaining than talking to the men, who only discussed the economy, the latest news, or politics. Women tended to give information out more freely, gossiping about their partners, laughing over antics that Christophe supposed were normal.

However, music started to pick up from the orchestra at the other end of the ballroom and soon the women dwindled away, taken to dance by whoever they had come with for the night or single men looking for a bit of fun. It was a relief when Christophe finally found himself alone, finishing off his champagne in one swig and it still wasn’t enough to give him a slight buzz.As he set the empty glass on a tray of a passing waiter, someone tapped on his shoulder. Looking over he noticed Gregory was there, the first time he’d seen the other male this evening since arriving.

“Did you have fun gossiping with the other ladies?” Gregory teased, making Christophe bristle and narrow his eyes. The blond knew all the right things to say to get under the Frenchman’s skin.

“They were better company than you’ll ever be, branleur.” Venom dripped from his voice, not bothering to conceal his irritation over the whole charade now that no one was around to see.

“Such a foul mouth, you shouldn’t say such things to your future husband. Especially since I came over here to ask you for a dance.” Gregory held out a hand, offering it to Christophe in such a proper manner that the Frenchman wanted to slap it away. However, he knew better than to cause a scene in such a public place and Gregory knew that as well. With that pleasant grin hiding his sadistic amusement of dragging Christophe through hoops, knowing the man couldn’t fight back without severe consequences. Christophe wouldn’t botch a job due to his own preferences.

After making Gregory wait just long enough to irritate the blond, Christophe finally took the offered hand that no amount of lotion could smooth out. Gregory seemed pleased by the victory, only serving to make Christophe’s jaw clench as he was led out into the dance floor. Already dancers were twirling around in what Christophe determined was a Viennese Waltz, not that a majority of the dancers were professionals, merely trying their best to move with the music. It was dreadfully boring, but then again such a dance was meant for more romantic dancing, proper courting. Things that should’ve remained dead long ago but still had a prominence because it was deemed high class and elegant.

Christophe had been taught to dance various ballroom steps with Gregory when they were younger, when the Brit would tease him about being a pretty princess when Christophe was anything but. When Gregory pulled at one of his hands, Christophe fell into the motion like a well trained dog, letting Gregory take the lead as he wont to do. Many times when they were children Christophe demanded to be the lead, dancing in itself became a battle to see which one came out on top. Gregory’s lighter feet held more confidence on his toes and eventually Christophe resigned himself to follow after the blond.

From a man so crass like Christophe, one wouldn’t expect such delicate footwork, but the dance of anticipation and graceful twirls was perfect to the point that Christophe’s mind blanked, falling into old patterns. Gregory guided him through the motions, those eyes sparked with amusement as he watched Christophe obey without hesitation as the music built up to its crescendo. The world melted away as he tended to do during such dances, making Christophe unaware of people watching them as they seemed to float circles around the wooden floor, polished so perfectly that he could almost see his reflection off the boards.

Christophe didn’t know how long they spent dancing, as he wasn’t one to give in to tiring before Gregory, to win out over the Brit in stamina as a punishment for pushing him into this. Eventually the orchestra came to an end, leaving both men slightly breathing heavier, closer than what should be appropriate for this certain kind of waltz, making Christophe’s eyes narrow in warning. He could see it written all over Gregory’s sophisticated face, the hooded gaze eyeing him like some sort of raw steak before a starving mongrel. Funny how it was the master panting after him like a dog instead of the Frenchman.

Christophe could feel him lean closer, his face taking up a majority of his vision until he was close enough that Christophe could feel the warmth of those lips radiating onto his own. His own heart betrayed him by picking up its pace in excitement and more anticipation that the waltz could ever truly provide. He swallowed even though his mouth felt dry, his body moving without a thought, leaning forward with impatience for a kiss from the cruel man in sheep’s clothing before him. This only served for Gregory to laugh with a husky tone to his voice before pulling away, bowing politely to press a kiss on Christophe’s knuckles just to keep up appearances before moving off into the dispersing crowd.

Whatever magic the waltz had inspired dissolved, leaving Christophe feeling even more bitter than even before.

When would he ever learn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't been active lately.
> 
> My excuse?
> 
> I'm a lazy bum who likes procrastinating and playing bideo games.


End file.
